


Tastes Like Heaven

by jeweldancer



Series: Cas and Dean [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Demisexual Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sensitive Dean Winchester, Sensual pie eating (sorry), Shy Castiel, Supernatural AU - Freeform, destiel au, pie making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweldancer/pseuds/jeweldancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel enjoyed his evening with Dean, but he's sure he'll never hear from him again. Why would gorgeous, confident Dean Winchester want to hang out with shy, anxious Cas Novak? It turns out that Dean does like Cas--very much--and they spend the next evening meeting Dean's family and making pie. (Of course.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so exhausted for the past week that writing this one was difficult. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it anyway. It's more from Cas's point of view than the first one of the series. It occurs the evening after The Start of Something Good.

By the time Castiel pulled back into the bookstore parking lot, it was almost closing time. The last of the shoppers were wandering out to their vehicles, clutching stacks of books (Singer's didn't give out shopping bags, in the interest of being environmentally friendly.)

"Castiel, I had way more fun than I expected when I came to the bookstore tonight. If I give you my number, will you call me tomorrow?"

"Probably not," Cas blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick himself. "Wait. I meant, not that I don't want to. I just, well, I don't like to talk on the phone, and besides that, by morning I'll probably think this was all some big misunderstanding and you won't want to hear from me after all. And oh God I'm going to shut up now. I'm sorry."

Castiel buried his face in his hands. He wouldn't be surprised if Dean opened the car door and sprinted away after that little outburst. Instead, everything was quiet. Cas didn't even hear any laughter. Finally, he got up the courage to peek at Dean through his fingers. Dean was watching him, the expression on his face serious yet kind. "Hey," Dean said quietly. "It's okay if you don't like talking on the phone. Here, put your number into my phone, and we can text instead."

Cas was dizzy with relief. Finally, someone understood that texting was so much less frightening than calling someone. And apparently Dean was okay with his awkward babbling as well. Maybe he was just being super polite. Castiel took the phone with trembling hands and entered his number.

"Thanks for eating with me, Cas. I would've been lonely otherwise. I'll text you tomorrow?"

"That would be great. I had a great time." Nice. How many more times could he say the word great?

Dean slid out of the car and then leaned back in. "Bye, Cas. I'll..." _Jesus, he'd almost said 'I'll miss you.' What the hell?_ "I'll talk to you soon."

Cas spent the rest of the evening with a ridiculous grin on his face. He felt like he was drunk. He finally fell into bed and replayed Dean's kiss over and over in his head until he drifted off.

He was considerably more realistic the next morning. Of course Dean wouldn't text, or call, or anything. It had happened to Castiel before; he was just a little too strange, too shy. People felt sorry for him, but they didn't want to bother with him. It would be okay, though. He was used to being alone, and he could always remember the time that Dean had touched him.

His phone buzzed.

Cas stumbled across the room to his phone, almost dropping it in his excitement. _Hey, Cas. It's Dean. Doing okay this morning?_

_Hello, Dean. Yes, I'm good, and you?_

_I was just thinking. You didn't get to eat all your pie last night. Maybe I could bake you a pie to make up for it?_

_You can make pie?_

_One of my many talents. But you know, only if you want._

_No, that sounds great, Dean. But I don't want to impose._

_No way. You know how long it's been since I met someone who likes pie? My brother is some kind of health freak, he won't even eat dessert._

_That's terrible. He's wasting his life._

_Yeah. So you'll be doing me a favor. I've spent a lot of time perfecting my apple pie recipe. You can tell me what you think._

Dean had given some thought about the best way to invite Cas over. He didn't want Cas to feel nervous about going to the home of someone that he barely knew, and he certainly didn't want Cas to be afraid that he would take advantage of him.

_So here's the thing, Cas. My brother is planning on having a movie night with his girlfriend, and I just know they'll watch some awful romantic comedy. So while they're taking over the living room, we can take over the kitchen and make pie._

There was a pause in which Dean waited anxiously.

_That sounds very nice, Dean. Only if you're sure I won't be in the way, though._

_It's a date, then. 7:30 ok?_

_I'll look forward to it. Just text me your address and I'll be there._

Castiel had difficulty concentrating on the painting he was working on. A man had commissioned a portrait of his granddaughter as an anniversary gift for his wife. He started playing his favorite album--From a Basement on the Hill--and buckled down to work. He took a break around one to eat a sandwich and run some errands, then worked for a while more. He decided to quit for the day around four, and after cleaning up he pulled out his sketchbook and began idly drawing.

He quickly noticed that the face he was drawing had the full lips and freckles of Dean Winchester. He groaned and put his head down on the kitchen table. This wasn't helping his nerves. He tried lying down on the couch for a nap, but sleep refused to come. He reassured himself that at least he was resting, but he ended up tossing and turning so much that he was more exhausted than when he laid down. At six he got up to take a shower and dress. Cas normally wore t-shirts and jeans, but tonight he put on the blue button-down Anna had given him for Christmas. Even giving extra thought to his choice of clothing didn't kill much time.

Damn it, he would just get in the car and drive to Dean's apartment. He could sit in the parking lot and read until it was time to go up. And so there he was, forty-five minutes early. Of course he didn't want to leave the car running--that was wasteful--but a few minutes of summer heat made the interior uncomfortable, even with the windows rolled down. Damn it again. He was going to show up at Dean's covered in sweat.

Someone knocked politely on the roof of the car, and Cas nearly jumped out the open window. "Dean! I didn't expect to...I was just early...umm, nice to see you again."

Dean was carrying grocery bags, and looked pleased to see Castiel. "I had to run out for some apples and stuff. I didn't expect you this early, but it's a nice surprise. Come on up and meet my brother."

Cas was embarrassed, but didn't see a way out of going up to Dean's apartment early without seeming rude. And besides, it was so damn hot out there. "At least let me carry some of your bags. It's the least I can do."

Dean's brother was extremely tall, and very kind. Cas immediately felt at ease around Sam, and Dean insisted that they sit on the couch and relax while he put up the groceries. Sam was easy to talk to, and Cas found himself telling him all about his own brother and sister. "I'm glad you're hanging out with Dean," Sam told him, smiling. "You seem like you'll be good for him."

"Me? Really?" Cas stammered. He wasn't used to thinking of himself being good for other people. Usually he was being told how problematic he was, or how others were having to make allowances for him.

"Well, yeah. He doesn't open up to many people, you know? He's always had to be responsible, and he's pretty reserved."

"He seems so confident," Cas marveled.

"Well, when we were young he always acted like he had a handle on things, so that I wouldn't worry. He practically raised me, you know, after our mom died."

Cas felt stricken. "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, it's okay. It's been a really long time. I was just a baby. My dad kind of fell apart after that, so Dean always took care of me."

Cas wondered how his heart could ache so much for a man he had only just met. Even though Cas barely knew him, he could already tell that the story Sam was telling him was just so Dean. Taking care of others without a thought for himself. Castiel wasn't able to ask any more questions of Sam, because his girlfriend Jessica arrived, and she was honestly one of the most beautiful people Cas had ever met. She was sweet and considerate, and before long she had Cas talking about his work, and was telling him that she was an artist too. "I mostly do portraits," Cas told her shyly.

"I'd love to see some of your work. That is, if you wouldn't mind showing me."

A few minutes later Castiel was being urged to run down to his car and fetch his sketchbook. He was shocked at himself for agreeing so readily. He almost ran back up the stairs in his excitement, and forced himself to act casual and disinterested as he entered the apartment with his drawings. Jess smiled understandingly and patted the sofa next to her. "Come over here and sit with me."

She gently turned the pages of the sketchbook and grew quiet. "Castiel. Your work is amazing."

Sam was looking over her shoulder. "Wow. Cas. You're like a genius."

When Dean came back into the living room to investigate the sudden silence, Jess waved him over. He leaned over the back of the couch, ready to show polite interest in the drawings. When he looked at the first one, his heart felt like it jumped in his chest. Dean couldn't draw at all, so he would have been impressed with anything that looked vaguely like a person. Cas's drawings were not only lifelike, they seemed to be alive. The personality and soul of his subjects burst forth from the paper. They were breathtaking. When they turned to the very last drawing, a man with short hair, plaid shirt, beautiful eyes, and a warm smile looked back at them.

"Oh shit," Sam said quietly. "That is so Dean."

"That's me," Dean whispered in disbelief. He felt a little lightheaded. He looked at Castiel, who was hesitant to meet Dean's gaze. He didn't know how Dean would feel about the drawing. Dean reached for Cas's hand and twined their fingers together. "C'mon, Cas. Let's get started on this pie."

Cas had little experience with cooking; he mostly survived on sandwiches and canned soup. Dean was obviously at home in the kitchen. His hands were skilled and sure as he measured flour and mixed pie crust. Castiel thought it was incredibly sexy, and blushed a bit as he considered what else those hands might be good at.

"What can I help with?" he asked, trying to distract himself.

"Well. How about you get started peeling those apples? You can find a paring knife in that drawer there."

"Of course." Cas picked up an apple and tried to figure out the most efficient way of peeling it. He couldn't remember the last time he had used a paring knife for anything other than cutting the top crust off his PB&J sandwiches.

Dean laughed softly. "They don't have to be perfect, Cas. They'll taste good no matter what."

Cas peeled apples feverishly while Dean rolled the crust out and lined the pie pan with it. "Looks great," he told Cas with an easy smile. "I'll start chopping." Dean's knife skills were impressive; he reminded Cas of chefs from the Food Network. They mixed the apples with cinnamon, sugar, and butter and poured them in the pan. "Now we'll cut the rest of the dough into strips and weave a lattice for the top."

"Oh my God, no way. I thought only pastry chefs did that kind of thing." Cas was as excited as a child as he watched Dean finish the pie and slide it in the oven.

"It'll take about 45 minutes to bake," Dean opened the cabinet and pulled out some wineglasses. "Want something to drink while we're waiting?"

"I'd love that." Anything to calm the butterflies in his stomach. Castiel took a sip of wine. "Dean, tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Where do you work?"

"That's easy enough. I own a car shop. We restore antique cars and motorcycles, stuff like that."

"Oh! Kind of like Counting Cars. I've seen that."

Dean laughed--God, he had a beautiful laugh. "Well, usually our work isn't quite that flamboyant. We stick to more of a classic look. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I really love cars, and to restore a really beat-up old car to its former glory is really satisfying."

Cas thought for a minute. "So you're an artist too, really."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Not like you. Craftsman, maybe."

"And you own your own shop? That's impressive."

"Not really. But I'm proud of it, you know. One of the few good things I picked up from Dad was learning how to fix cars."

"Do you have any pictures of cars that you've done?"

Dean grinned at him and pulled out his phone. He flipped through several sets of before and after photos of projects he'd worked on. Cas knew next to nothing about cars in general and classic cars in particular, so he didn't understand much of what Dean was saying. It didn't matter, though; Dean's pride and pleasure in the finished products was evident.

Talking with Dean was easier than talking with anyone else Cas had ever met. The forty-five minutes passed in a flash, and Dean removed the pie from the oven. Cas leaned over it hungrily, but Dean shooed him away, saying it had to cool a bit first. Finally he pronounced it ready.

Dean cut a large slice of pie, grabbed a fork, and sat down opposite Castiel. "Why only one piece?" Cas asked.

Dean smiled, cut off a bite of pie, and held the fork out to Castiel. _Oh, God_. Cas thought, _Oh, shit. I can't do this, he is too gorgeous, he..._ Cas's lips parted and Dean slipped the pie into his mouth. _Oh, God_. The pie was absolutely the best thing he had ever eaten, where had the man learned to cook like that? Cas's teeth sank through the flaky crust and soft apples, and he made an involuntary little moan of pleasure.

Dean cut off another bite and popped it into his own mouth, then licked the fork sensuously, never taking his eyes off Cas. He continued through the piece of pie, alternating between feeding Cas and taking a bite himself. Castiel thought he must be dreaming. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He was trembling.

Dean noticed that he was near to being overwhelmed and gave him a minute to recover. "Castiel. I'd like to kiss you again. Let me know when it's okay to do that."

Cas breathed deeply for a minute to get ahold of himself, then nodded. "Now is good."

Dean pulled his chair up next to him and cupped Castiel's face in his hands as he had the night before. He brushed his lips against Cas's, and then waited for a few seconds, giving Cas time to pull away if he needed to. Then he pressed his lips to Cas's again. Dean's breath smelled like cinnamon, and he tasted like apple pie. Castiel thought he tasted like heaven, but then Dean caught his bottom lip very gently between his teeth, and Cas wasn't able to think anymore.

Dean pulled back slightly. "You okay?"

"Better than okay," Cas breathed.

"You taste really good," Dean told him.

"So do you, Dean. Everyone should taste like cinnamon."


End file.
